A Crime, Gladly Committed
by TortiQuercu
Summary: Coulson confronts May over her attack on Ian Quinn. This short conversation piece was inspired by the pre-released 4 min intro for Episode 14: TAHITI. Angst with a hint of May/Coulson. One-shot. Please read & review!


**A/N: I had the idea for this conversation bobbing around my head for the last couple of days, so I figured I'd get it out. May and Coulson aren't one of my usual ships, I don't even know what the agreed acceptable pairing name is... Mayson? Philinda? Coulvary? Heck if I know. Anyway, this is mostly angst with a little splash of... whatever that ship is. ^_^**

* * *

"Saving you is the only thing that will bring me peace for all the wrong I have done. That is my truth."

- Jillian Peery, _TigerLily_

* * *

Melinda May held her fists under the faucet until the freezing water ran clear. It should have been grimly satisfying, watching Ian Quinn's blood swirl the drain, yet all she felt was cold and hollow. Her gaze drifted clinically across the small bathroom counter. Phil had left his razor out that morning, the only thing out of place next to neat bar of citrus-and-spice scented soap, a tube of toothpaste (cap on, rolled up from the bottom) and an electric toothbrush.

She imagined his morning ritual. Did he stretch when he woke up this morning? Did he climb into the shower with his spicy soap first, or did he shave at the sink before going in? Did he write on the mirror with his finger when the tiny room filled up with steam? Would it say "today Skye is going to die" if he had known?

May shook her hands and turned off the taps, pressing her frozen palms against her eyes. She stared emotionless at her reflection. Deep breaths, in and out, embracing the hollow feeling. She wiped her hands on a small grey towel hanging beside the door, and walked out into Coulson's quarters.

Phil was sitting at his desk, flipping his favourite pen between his fingers. He looked up at her, his face flat. "Better?"

"Yeah. Thanks for letting me use your bathroom."

Phil gave a dismissive shrug. "Not a problem. The blood spatter would have been a bit distracting. Sit."

Melinda lowered herself into the chair facing his desk without a word. They stared stoically at each other for quite some time. Words were largely unnecessary; her actions in the detainment cell with Ian Quinn were completely understandable and absolutely unforgivable. They both knew that. They both knew the unholy legal mess she had created. No, she shouldn't have pulped Quinn's face into oblivion. No, she didn't feel any better afterwards. No, she didn't regret it. Coulson didn't need to ask.

They stared at each other until they both knew they had run through the admonitions in their heads. Agent Coulson finally gave a curt nod. "Do we need to talk?" he asked gruffly.

She raised an eyebrow. "I think we pretty much covered it," she replied archly.

"Good," Phil snapped. "Glad we got that out of the way. So tell me then, Melinda, what's the _rest_ of the problem?"

May blinked at him, but remained silent.

Agent Coulson stood up abruptly. "Don't you dare hold out on me," he berated her. "You didn't cross that line for Skye _or_ because of what Russo did to you. Is it Ward?"

"Don't be ridiculous," she spat.

"Ridiculous? No, ridiculous was your little boy-cub baring his teeth at me earlier before you got back, while we were _on the clock_. While Skye was _going in alone_."

For a split second, May looked guilty, but her mask was quickly back in place. "I never thought he'd confront you," she said calmly. "Obviously he is compromised and you can consider our relationship over. But he did not, on any level, impair my judgment."

"Then what is it, May? You cracked. Why?"

Her lips settled into an angry line. "I guess I just wasn't ready to be pulled off my desk job yet, Phil."

"Then why did you come along?" he demanded.

"I don't know if you remember," she snarled with her eyes flashing dangerously, "but you didn't give me a choice."

"Oh, please," Couslon uttered in derision. "Don't insult my intelligence. If you really weren't up for this, you could have faked the medical or gone over my head, to Maria. This isn't a prison camp, you had options. No, that's a load of garbage!" He spun around and threw his pen at the wall. It crashed into his display shelves and loudly knocked a framed photo over. "No, you're here because on some level, you wanted to be. Don't lie to me, Melinda!"

Agent May leapt to her feet, her face blazing with fury. "Fine!" she shouted as she clenched her hands into fists. "It's YOU! _You're_ the rest of my problem! You got too close, Phil! You gave Skye more of yourself than anyone has _ever_ got from you! You are breaking rules and ignoring protocols and you brought us to this nightmare! You made Skye your weakness, and Quinn exploited that!"

Phil flinched sharply, as though she had slapped him. She didn't stop.

"And now we're going to break into a SHIELD facility to track down information that we're not supposed to have. How many of us are you willing to sacrifice for this, Phil? Are you going to throw Fitz away to save her? Simmons? ME?"

She moved around his desk and stepped right up against him. "Skye has… had… a way of getting through to people," she said, lowering her voice. "I get that. I felt it too. But I don't understand why with you… it's more than that." May frowned and looked away. "You're willing to walk into Hell itself to save her. Why…. _why weren't you willing to do that for me?_"

May stepped back, unable to meet his eyes. She sank back down into the chair, suddenly feeling exhausted. Coulson's mouth hung open for several moments before he was able to shake it off and sit down himself. He lowered his head into his hands and they stayed that way for another long while.

Finally, he lifted his face to hers. "Melinda," he said, his voice barely a whisper. "Don't you understand? I've never forgiven myself for what happened to you in Bahrain. Skye is so much like you, like you used to be. I… I…. guess that somehow, I thought that if I could help her, if I could save her, that it might make amends. If I could save Skye, maybe she could save you…. and you would forgive me. Maybe then I could forgive myself."

May swallowed hard. "Well," she croaked, her voice suddenly very dry. "I guess we both underestimated each other. I'm… I'm sorry, Phil."

"I'm sorry too," he replied sadly. "More than I can say."

May stood up slowly. "I'd better get back to the cockpit."

Coulson nodded grimly. "Melinda," he called after her, and she turned around. "I'm not changing course now. If there is a chance we can save Skye…"

She nodded. "I know. I… I love her too, Phil. I am just worried about _you_."

He sighed. "When this nightmare is over, though, however it plays out… we need to talk, okay? If I'm careening off the rails and taking the whole team with me, you've got to let me know. "

May smiled faintly. "Why me? I'm just the pilot, remember?"

"Yeah, right," he laughed genuinely. "Melinda May. Just the pilot."


End file.
